A/N: Woah, made it to chapter five! I'm so enormously thankful for all y'all who commented (and PM-ed me ;D) and whatnot, so without further introduction, here is chapter five!
Disclaimer- Supernatural and Sherlock are not my property (though if it were possible they totally would be)
Warning- if suicidal thoughts/actions are a trigger to you I wouldn't recommend the next chapter, actually, scratch that. I'll put in a little warning before and after it is finished so you can read the chapter if you don't wish to see such a description.
SEB POV
I wonder where Jim is today...
JIM POV
Why the fucking hell do people exist?! All they do is screw you over and wish for death. Is that what you fucking want, Carl? The oh so cool captain of the football and swim team wants me dead, so why the hell not! Only person I'd miss would be that fucker (he's seriously gotten under my skin) Sebastian. Arse tries to fucking care about me, you don't do that. Jim Moriarty does NOT need someone to care for him or pity him, just leave me the fuck ALONE!
Though Jim thought this, he did know one thing, he truly would miss Seb. He's sorta maybe (what? Not at all!) grown on him...NO! HE DOESN'T NEED ANYONE, NOT FOR THE PAST FUCKING FOURTEEN YEARS HE HASN'T.
Jim briskly walked to the bathroom on the third floor, luckily people didn't use this bathroom so it was perfect for his intentions. Privacy was of the upmost importance to him, it always has been. His death would have to be the same, no sappy notes to his "loved ones" or guilting his tormentors to the best of his ability, just a small affair. All a guy needed really.
Once he entered the room, he quickly got to work; he had what was necessary to make sure it was impossible to live on. A simple razor was what he needed, quick, mostly effortless and something that sure as hell helped him deal with the pain before, so sentimental isn't it? The motions were familiar, almost habitual. The blade brought pain and happiness at the same time. Jim looked down at his forearm, the label that covered it. FREAK. That's all he's ever been, all he'll ever be. It had to go.
(TRIGGER WARNING RIGHT HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ IT)
He forcefully brought it down to his left wrist, digging deep into the veins, bringing the beautiful read liquid to the surface. Blood came spurting out quickly but Jim continued. He was determined to carve out that scar, and he sure as hell would. The image which he pictured was not cutting himself up, but killing all those who had tortured him; Carl, his fuckers, his father, and his mother, for leaving him there, for being so weak to leave her four year old with a man who tried to kill him. Luckily he didn't succeed.
Sadly Jim was about to.
It was the first time Jim felt truly free. Free of pain, free of hurt, and free of life.
The thoughts would have been more beautiful if it had not been his death that brought it on.
(Ok you can start reading again if you stopped)
The last thing he heard before he blacked out was the door opening and a voice calling out to him.
"Jim?!"
Well, so that certainly was short. I promise more will be explained in the next chapter, but it was kind of left like this on purpose...anywho. I'm sorry to leave it on such a cliffhanger, but it was just too tempting! So that happened, any guesses or suggestions for next chapter?
Thank you Luna Moriarty for (perhaps unintentionally) reminding me of this. Very sweet person!
Suicide is a large issue in societies today, if any of you guys are having some thoughts or this chapter or others in the past were a trigger, please please please PM me and I will gladly help you if you are thinking of this option.
Much love
~StarkidSherlockSlytherin